After The Fall
by weasleywheezes
Summary: What happens after the last battle with Voldemort? - One Shot. Please review.


DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction featuring characters from the Harry Potter series of books. Any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidental (and really strange). I am not affiliated with Warner Bros., J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, or anything to do with the Potterverse Conglomerate. I hope that's enough legalese for you.  
  
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Ron rose to his feet, wobbly and in immense pain. The flash of light that knocked him down had blinded him. He looked around for his wand and found it a few meters away from where he fell. He rubbed his eyes and finally was able to see, but what lay wasted before him was shocking.  
  
The beautiful countryside had turned into ashes, trees stood burning, homes were turned into rubble, and bodies littered the field around him. There were a few survivors, unrecognizable from the soot and their weariness.  
  
"Fred? George? Someone? Anyone?" Ron began screaming. "Harry! Hermione! Harry, where are you?"   
  
He stumbled over a foot, and when he glanced down, he saw Percy's horn-rimmed glasses. The body next to it didn't look like his brother. There was still a chance that Percy was alive, but it frightened him all the same.   
  
"Perce? It's me, Ron!"  
  
Ron started walking around the dead bodies gingerly, trying to find someone he knew. He kept calling his friends' and brothers' names, wondering if the next corpse he saw would be the one he most dreaded to see.  
  
He heard his own name echoing across the field. He whipped his head around.  
  
"Hermione! Is it you? Can you wave your arms?" Across the field, he saw an arm shaking. With hope in his heart, he ran towards Hermione, jumping over his dead allies, never taking his eyes off of her.  
  
When he reached her, he couldn't believe her condition. She had been critically injured. Hermione's skin was badly burned, her hair was falling out in chunks, and her left leg was shattered at the knee. "Ron! I'm so glad to see you. Where's Harry?"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione. I was hoping he would be with you. I need to get you to a healer." Ron picked her up and started to carry her.  
  
Hermione winced. "Please, Ron, hurry."  
  
Ron made his way toward the only building left standing. He saw a few people he knew straggling into the room. When the pair reached the building, he put Hermione on a table.  
  
"Please, she needs help! She'll die if you don't help her," Ron yelled to whoever would listen.  
  
The dazed survivors shuffled past, none in any shape to help Hermione. Finally, a woman in a white cloak appeared and began to administer first aid to Hermione. Ron paced back and forth, scared to death. When the healer told Ron that she would be taking Hermione directly to St. Mungo's, he slowly realized that he would be alone at the field. He asked a few people if they had seen Harry, but they shook their heads no. After a few bandages, he continued his search.  
  
"Harry! Harry Potter!"  
  
Ron had never felt so alone. Hermione was on the verge of death and Harry...who knew where Harry was? He had seen Dumbledore die, along with a third of the Gryffindors of his class. He had seen their bodies strewn across the grass. He looked for someone, anyone, who could help him. Someone was limping up a hill. From a distance, it looked like Seamus Finnegan. Ron called to him.  
  
"Weasley! I was beginning to think I was the only one left. Abercrombie's exploded, I saw him with my own eyes. Dean's legs have been blown off, and I saw some first year's head a kilometer away from his body."  
  
Ron kept himself from vomiting. "Seamus, have you seen Harry?"  
  
"No," Seamus muttered, "but I haven't seen...well...you know who."  
  
Ron scanned the field. Seamus was right. He didn't see any sign of Voldemort.  
  
"Harry! Where are you?"  
  
Seamus joined in. "Harry Potter! Potter!"  
  
Together, Ron and Seamus searched the crowd for Harry and any other Gryffindor they could find. "Harry?" Seamus screamed, but still, no response.  
  
Ron walked across the dead bodies toward the edge of the field, where the forest began. He found a lone survivor, reaching toward the sky.   
  
"Hello! You there. Can you hear me?" Ron called to him.  
  
The boy sat up. He cocked his head and pointed to his legs.  
  
"Who are you?" He looked so familiar.  
  
The boy pointed to his throat, his legs, and finally, his forehead.  
  
"Can't you talk?" Ron asked him. The boy shook his head no and pointed to his forehead again.  
  
"Do you have a headache?"  
  
The boy shook his head again. He made a swift movement with his finger and pointed to his forehead.  
  
Ron became agitated. "Look, mate, I don't understand you. I'm trying to find my friend, Harry Potter. Have you seen him?"  
  
The boy shook his head yes, and then pointed to his forehead again.  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I believe he's saying that he's Harry," Seamus whispered in awe.  
  
"No way, mate. There's no scar, and Harry isn't mute."  
  
"Right. And two hours ago, You-Know-Who was still alive and Dean Thomas had legs. It's Harry." Seamus walked over to the boy and helped him to his feet. The boy shook his head and began to fall against Seamus.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked delicately. "Is it really you?"  
  
The boy shook his head yes and pointed to his forehead again. Ron hugged him tight and wept uncontrollably.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Harry! I'm so sorry."  
  
Harry held onto his best friend. He squinted his eyes, and suddenly Ron could hear Harry's voice in his mind.  
  
I'll be fine once I get to a healer. Voldemort is dead, and we can start again. Where's Hermione?  
  
"She's been taken to St. Mungo's. She's badly hurt, Harry."  
  
Seamus looked around; saw his comrades covered with blood, and then looked toward Harry. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Harry, thank you for...for saving us. I'm sorry I ever doubted you."  
  
Ron took a deep breath. He glanced at Harry. Curious that the scar had vanished, but Ron didn't understand curse scars in the first place. All he understood was that the feeling of dread that he had experienced for seven years had disappeared, despite knowing the bloody end of some of his friends. Ron knew that it couldn't have turned out any differently. If Voldemort had overcome, then the Dark Lord would have killed everyone. He looked around and saw the dead bodies of his friends and classmates, their parents, knowing that some of his very own brothers lie dead among them. He knew that despite the pain, there would be life after this. He turned to his best friend and smiled.  
  
"The Man Who Lived. Has an nice ring to it, don't you think?" 


End file.
